Albus Potter and the Alabaster Tomb
by ThatDipperKid
Summary: Follow Albus Potter in his first year at Howgwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where nothing is as it seems. As a mysterious plot begins to unfold inside the school, Albus most prove himself a true Gryffindor and discover the true meaning of bravery.


Albus Potter and the Alabaster Tomb

by ThatDipperKid

based on the Harry Potter novel series by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 1:

Reunion

A loud, rich boom filled the night air around the small town of Godric's Hollow. The church bells were ringing, signaling the end of another evening doors of Saint Peter's were thrown open, and a throng of happily talking people filed out. The last person to leave was a stooped, tired looking old man. He walked with a cane, and moved very slowly. He took the stairs one at a time, carefully making his way down. When he reached the final step, he sighed with happiness. He took a moment to appreciate the night. It was unseasonable warm, almost eighty degrees. It was nearly fall, and some of the trees had begun to change colors. He looked towards the center of town, and something caught his eye.

A man in a black robe and cloak was making his way up Church Lane. This was not altogether too unusual. Many residents of Godric's Hollow wore robes and cloaks. It was a bit strange, but the old man had always chalked it up to some weird fashion trend. The man in the robe seemed quite lost; his greying red hair whipped back and forth as he looked around. As he did so, the old man noticed that the robed man had an ear missing. Eventually, the robed mans eyes settled on the forest near the outskirts of town. With a shrug, he marched towards the woods. He breezed past the confectionary, and moved briskly into a tree-filled outcropping.

The old man shook his head. He considered alerting the constable, but he realized there was no point. The robed man would realize there was nothing in those woods soon enough. With a groan, the old man set out home.

George Weasley was completely, totally, and thoroughly lost. He cursed under his breath as he moved deeper into the forest, looking around desperately for some sort of hint on where he was going. The sky was almost completely dark, meaning he was most likely late. Again, he consulted the roughly drawn map that Ron had handed him at work the night previous.

"Six years at Hogwarts, and the git never learned how to draw," George muttered darkly. He looked around one last time, making sure the coast was clear, and pulled out his wand. "Lumos," he whispered. A beam of white light poured from its tip. Using it like a torch, George carefully made his way through the woods, looking for…

"Finally!" George said. He had found it. It was the only tree in the forest that had white bark. He approached it, and saw the wide knot in its center. He tapped hard on the knot three times with his wand. Like a red carpet at a fashion show, a white cloth path unfolded from the base of the tree. George snuffed out his wand with a soft whisper of, "nox," and moved onto the path. He walked for about a quarter of a mile, stopping occasionally to catch his breath or stretch out a hitch in his side. At the end of the path was a steep downward slope, covered with rocks. At the end of the slope was a wood cabin. Smoke poured out of a chimney, and a lake sparkled a few feet away. George carefully made his way down the slope, almost losing his balance near the end. He finally reached level ground, and moved towards the cabin.

It was a simple cabin that looked like it held two or three rooms. The front door had a brass knocker in the shape of a snowy owl. George lifted and dropped the knocker twice. The door was opened by a woman in her mid thirties. Like the man, her hair was red, although it had not begun to go grey. She was lithe and athletic, and wore a red sweater and jeans. She beamed at George, and scooped him into a tight embrace.

"Hello Ginny," George said.

"Oh, George!" Ginny squealed. "It's been too long."

"It has," said George. They released each other, and Ginny's eyes lingered on George's hair. "I know, I look ancient," said George.

"No, you look dignified," said Ginny.

"Come off it," said George. "It's not fair, really. Niether Charlie or Bill have gone grey yet."

"But Charlie is almost bald," said Ginny.

"Fair point," said George. He came into the house, and shook his head in amazement. The cabin really was an impressive piece of magic. It looked small on the outside, but on the inside it looked absolutely grand. A huge foyer with a massive crystal chandelier led into a sitting room. The pair walked into the room, and Ginny pulled up a chair for George. The room was covered in various portraits; Albus Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him as he walked in, and Remus Lupin beamed. Harry's parents waved, and Sirius Black winked. They tore at his heart as he looked around. At the end of the room was a roaring fire. In the center of the room was a puffy pink couch, and a handsome oak table. George sat in the chair, which was on the opposite side of the table as the couch. Ginny conjured up a teapot and two cups, and began pouring drinks.

"Ron wasn't kidding," George said. "This is an impressive place you got here."

"It's nothing much," said Ginny modestly. "Nothing compared to you and Angelina's mansion." George scoffed.

"It is not a mansion," he said. Ginny raised her eyebrows. "All right, maybe it's a bit mansion-like." Ginny handed him his tea, and sat across from him on the couch. "Where are the kids?" he asked.

"The Longbottom's are watching them," said Ginny.

"Really?" asked George. "That's too bad. I was looking forward to seeing them."

"And I'm sure they'd want to see their favorite Uncle," said Ginny. "But Harry insisted that they stay with the Longbottom's. He didn't want them to eavesdrop."

"Well, if they're anything like we were at that age, that was a very good idea," said George. Ginny chuckled.

"We were a bit nosy, as I recall," said Ginny. She sipped her tea. "Do you remember that summer we spent at Grimmauld Place?"

"How could I forget?" said George. "I still have nightmares about that awful shrieking portrait."

"That was where you and Fred invented the extendable ears," said Ginny. At the mention of Fred's name, George frowned. "We tried to spy on the Order all the time."

"And we were good at it too," said George. "Until Mum realized what we were up too."

"Yeah," said Ginny. "Mum has always been incredible at sniffing out trouble."

"Well when you've raised kids like me and Fred, that just kind of happens," said George. "And I've been getting my comeuppance. Little Fred is more than a handful. Me and Angelina are tearing our hair out just trying to keep up with him."

"He'll get better in a few years," assured Ginny. "They're always really bad around nine and ten."

"I hope you're right," said George. "Where is everyone, by the way?"

"Well Harry's still at the ministry," said Ginny. "Chester Nobleman got himself in another jam, and you know how Harry is. As for Ron and Hermione, goodness knows. They've been late an awful lot lately. Because of all the, well, you know."

"Yeah," said George gloomily. "How much longer do you think they have?"

"Well Ron told Harry neither him of Hermione are even thinking about divorce," Ginny said, "but I don't know how much longer they can last, fighting about everything the way they do."

"Well they've always fought," said George. "Even when they were in Hogwarts they would bicker all the time."

"True," said Ginny. "But this is different. It's not just bickering. They're starting to get really resentful of each other." Ginny paused to take a sip of tea. "Me and Harry overheard them arguing while we were on Holiday in Nice. Hermione is mad that she has to spend all her time at the ministry while Ron gets to work at your joke shop."

"Well that's her problem, isn't it?" said George.

"I suppose," Ginny said. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "But she honestly thinks that his talents could be better served at the ministry. She thinks he's wasting his time working for you."

"She's never liked Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," George muttered. "I mean, Ron's really happy now. The War took a lot out of him, and working as an auror wasn't helping things." George shook his head. "I just don't understand why she doesn't want him to be happy."

"It's not about that," said Ginny. "It's just that she spends all her time and energy trying to improve peoples lives, while Ron goofs off all day. Not to mention that she barely gets to see Hugo and Rose, since she's so busy."

"Well they need to figure something out," said George. "Because it's been getting more than a little unpleasant."

"You don't know the half of it," Ginny said. "He won't admit it, but it's tearing Harry apart. The three of them have always been together, you know? He's really afraid that if they break up, it's just not going to be the same." There was a loud pop, and Ginny looked into the foyer. A smile spread across her face, and she set down her tea cup.

"'Lo?" called a voice. "Anyone home?" Ginny got up and ran out of the room. George followed quickly behind. A bespectacled man stood in the center of the foyer. He had flyaway black hair, and a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He embraced Ginny as she ran up to him, and planted a quick kiss on her lips.

"Wotcher Harry," said George with a grin. The two shook hands.

"How've you been?" asked Harry.

"Busy," George said."We just hired a new crop of kids from Hogwarts, and they've got some pretty insane ideas. One of them brewed a love potion so strong that he fell in love with a chair for a week. Proposed to it and everything." Harry chuckled heartily while Ginny helped him with his cloak and gloves. "How about you?"

"Same," said Harry. "Really busy. We've been rounding up the last of the dementors. They've been hiding out in muggle children's closets," said Harry. Both George and Ginny shivered. "It's been a real ordeal. I've done more memory charms over the past three weeks than most wizards do in their entire life."

"It's good that you're getting rid of them," said Ginny. "They're horrible things. Truly awful. Don't know why the ministry ever employed them in the first place." The trio walked into the sitting room. Harry paused at the picture of Remus Lupin.

"I owe him so much," Harry said. There was a second of silence, and then Harry sat down next to his wife. "I see Ron and Hermione aren't here yet."

"No," said Ginny. "Me and George were just discussing…" Ginny trailed off when Harry's face darkened.

"Their relationship is their business," said Harry stiffly.

"I know," said Ginny. "Sorry for bringing it up."

"Oh!" said George suddenly. He reached into the pockets of his robes, and pulled out a small red box. "You've got to see this Harry. Hot off the presses. Not even available in the stores yet." He handed the box over to Harry, who stared at it curiously.

"It's not going to jinx me if I open it?" asked Harry.

"Course not," said George. "Would I do something like that?" George grinned slyly, and Harry returned it. He slowly opened the box. When it was halfway opened, he grinned, and threw it open all the way.

"Ron was telling me about these," said Harry. It was a slim, green ring. He placed it on his finger. "What do I say?" asked Harry.

"Say a color," said George. Harry thought for a second, and with a grin shouted, "blue!" Ginny gasped as Harry's hair turned a bright shade of aquamarine. Harry stood up, and walked over to mirror hanging on one of the walls. He laughed and probed his hair with his fingers.

"That better be reversible," said Ginny. She crossed her arms, and George thought of his mother.

"'Course it is," said George.

"Black," said Harry. His hair returned to his normal color. He sat back down, and put the ring back in the box. He went to hand it George, but the Weasley waved it away.

"Give it to James," George said. "He'll get a real kick out of it."

"Yeah he will," said Harry. As he pocketed the box, two popping sounds came from the foyer.

"Oh, we are so late!" cried a high voice.

"We'd have been on time if you hadn't been giving Hugo the business," said a surlier, lower pitched voice.

"I've told him a thousand times not to touch my things," said the high pitched voice. "He spilled ink all over my first draft for the new bribery law."

"And you just magiced it off," said the low voice. "Honestly, you're too hard on him."

"No, you're too soft," said the high voice cooly. George cleared his throat loudly. There was the sound of shuffling feet, and Ron and Hermione Weasley peeked into the sitting room.

"Hey everyone," said Ron. Everyone exchanged pleasantries, and Harry conjured up two chairs next to George. The married couple took them. Harry noticed that they were avoiding each others eyes.

"Shall I make some sandwiches?" asked Ginny. "I'm sure everyone is very hungry." Before anyone could murmur assent or otherwise, Harry raised his hand.

"Sorry Ginny," he said. "But I really think we should talk before we eat. I'm afraid it's rather important." The group exchanged confused looks. They had all thought this was a social call. Harry stood up, and strode over to the sitting room door. He closed and locked it. He pulled out his wand, and began walking around the room, muttering under his breath.

"What're you up to Harry?" asked George.

"Detection spells," said Hermione. "To make sure there's no magic lingering around."

"I swear, the older he gets, the more he gets like Mad-Eye," said Ron.

"Constant vigilance!" shouted Harry, and the group jumped. He smiled impishly, and pocketed his want. He sat back down, and ran a hand through his messy hair. "I wanted to talk to you all first," said Harry," before I talked to the Longbottom's, the Lovegoods, and some of the others."

"Oh no," gasped Hermione. She had a look of horrible comprehension on her face. The rest of the group looked mystified.

"The Lovegoods?" asked Ginny. "Why would…" a bolt of realization hit Ginny, and all the color drained out of her face. The two Weasley brothers exchanged confused glances.

"Dumbledore's army," said Hermione. The Weasley brothers slowly turned to look at Harry.

"No," said Ron. "It can't be."

"Relax," said Harry. "Voldemort is still dead." The group let out a collective sigh of relief, and Ginny shot Harry a look of frustration and anger.

"Why'd you let us get all worked up like that?" she demanded.

"Sorry," said Harry. "I didn't know how else to say it."

"Wait," said Ron. "If you-know-who isn't back, why do you need to contact the members of the DA?" Harry stood up, and began pacing.

"There's something else," Harry said. "Something new. Something really bad."

"It's to do with the artifacts, isn't it?" asked Ron. Harry noded.

"What artifacts?" asked George.

"Over the past six years, an alarming number of magical artifacts have been stolen," said Harry. "At first we thought it was coincidence. That the rash of thefts were unrelated." He turned on his heel to face the group. "But now we know that isn't true."

"How?" asked Hermione.

"We put Proudfoot on top of the sword of Gryffindor," said Harry. "You know it's part of the new Hogwarts exhibit at the National Magical Museum. We were worried that it would get nicked, and turns out we were right to worry. A foreign wizard broke into the museum late three nights ago, and would have made off with the sword and some other things if Proudfoot hadn't stopped him. The wizard got away, but Proudfoot said he matched the description of a man sighted at some of the other break-ins."

"But what's a serial thief got to do with the DA?" asked Ginny.

"I'm getting to that," said Harry. "We started talking to members of other countries magical law enforcement agencies. They all reported the same thing: break ins at highly guarded magical stores. Denmark had a break in at the Bank Magie, where several old wands were stolen. Germany informed us that Nurmengard had been broken into, and several of Grindlewald's old notes were taken. The goblins at Gringott's have noticed several suspicious and unfamiliar looking wizards hanging about, as if they were casing the place." Harry shook his head, and began to pace again. "At first we thought it might have been some sort of thievery ring. But none of the artifacts have turned up. None of them have been sold. Whoever is taking them has been hoarding them." Harry stared up at a portrait of Alastor Moody. "And so we started doing some research. It turns out that every item stolen has one thing in common." He turned to face the group again. "They all increase the magical power of the user. The old wands from the Bank Magie were experimental wands designed to allow the user to perform charms without saying any words of making any movements. The notes that were taken from Nurmengard were Grindlewald's experiments with the properties of magical energy. And the sword of Gryffindor is, besides an awesome weapon, a conduit for magical power."

"So… so some sort of group is collecting magical objects, in the hope of increasing their power?" asked Ginny.

"I don't think so," said Hermione. "I think that the only reason someone, or someones, would obsessively collect objects like that was if they found a spell they couldn't cast."

"Exactly," said Harry. "A spell so powerful that a group of very adept wizards don't have enough power to cast it."

"What kind of spell would that be?" asked Ron.

"I don't know," said Harry. "But this isn't the first time something like this has happen. All throughout history, items relating to the nature of magical powers have tended to disappear."

"But never at this rate," said Hermione. "Usually it occurs once every three decades or so."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Which makes me and a lot of the other Auror's think that the people behind this are getting close to whatever they're after. That they just need one more little push before they're ready to cast whatever spell this is."

"Well, if it is the same group that's been at this, they've been around for a long time," said Hermione. "The first theft of this sort happened over three hundred years ago. When the Emerald Egg was stolen from the Emperor's Palace."

"Try over a thousand years ago," said Harry. The group took a collective intake of breath. "The alchemist Lorabella Kinsey reported in 998 A.D. that a group of masked men broke into his shop and stole all of his notes relating to magical conversion. He didn't understand why, as the notes were nowhere near finished. But Kinsey started keeping tabs on his fellow alchemists after that. He thought one of them had stolen his notes. Turns out that they reported similar things. Masked men breaking into labs and stealing notes relating to the nature of magic."

"Masked, like Death Eaters?" asked Ron.

"I suppose," said Harry. "But they don't wear masks anymore. Proudfoot said the thief had some sort of charm on him that completely obscured his face."

"So you think there's some sort of ancient group that's collecting artifacts to perform some sort of spell," said Hermione, "and you want the DA to help you track them-"

"No!" said Harry sternly. "The auror office is taking care of that." Harry sat back down, and rubbed his scar absentmindedly. "I'm saying that if these people pull off this spell, whatever it is, there is a very real chance we might have another war on our hands." He closed his eyes. "Somehow I don't think they're going to be using these artifacts to spread world peace."

"No," said Ginny. "I don't think so either."

"Nor do I," said Hermione.

"So… so you want us to be ready," said George. Harry nodded. George looked into the fire.

"I'll be honest with you Harry," he said. "I… I don't know if I can do it again." He looked up at the wall, and found the portrait he had been avoiding this whole time. The man in the portrait was very young, no older than twenty. He bore a striking resemblance to George, only he was much younger, and his hair was much longer. He seemed to be chuckling at a joke that only he knew. A tear beaded up in the corner of George's eye. "I lost so much last time."

"I know," whispered Harry. "We all did. We all lost so much." A heavy silence fell in the room. After nearly a minute, Harry began speaking again. "You don't have to fight, if you don't want to," he said. "But we only have so many aurors. We can't fight against whoever these people are alone. Our intelligence suggests the group is spread across many countries and cultures. Their members could number in the hundreds."

"What are they called?" asked Ginny.

"We don't know," said Harry. "We've been calling them the Obscurers, since they all use that face obscuring charm."

"The Obscurers," said Hermione. "I have a feeling we're going to be talking about them a lot over the next couple of years."

"Hopefully I'm wrong," said Harry. "It wouldn't be the first time. Maybe this is just a very well organized group of thieves."

"You don't believe that," said Ginny quietly.

"And neither do we," said Ron. "I'll fight, Harry. You know I will. You didn't even have to ask."

"But the children," said Hermione. Ginny whimpered.

"It'd be like the Order of the Phoenix," said Harry. "If some of us die, the rest of us agree to watch over that persons children." They all looked at Harry, surprised at the brutality of his bluntness. "Listen to me. Talking about death, when all we have are a bunch of missing trinkets."

"No, this is important," said Ginny. "I'll fight too. I don't know how much good I'll be. I've spent a lot more time with my quill than with my wand these last few years. But I'll fight."

"No," said George. He did not elaborate, and nobody asked him to.

"I… I don't know," said Hermione. "We know so little." Ron glared at her, and she glared back.

"It's fine," said Harry. "This might not happen for years yet. But it's good to know. To be prepared." He looked back up at the painting of Alastor Moody. "Constant vigilance." Silence fell on the group again. After a moment, Ginny stood up.

"Sandwiches," she said. "I'd make a proper dinner but we haven't been shopping for a while."

"No need," said George. "For me, anyway. If that's all Harry, I'll be going."

"What?" asked Ron. "Where do you have to be?"

"Stop it Ron," hissed Hermione. George's face was expressionless, but his eyes were full of sadness. Harry walked over to George and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just thought-"

"Don't be sorry," said George. "If you had asked five years earlier maybe… but I just can't." He patted Harry's arm, and strode into the foyer. He put on his cloak, and smiled dully. "Well, now that I know where this place is, next time I can apparate. Bye Ginny, Ron, Hermione." They all said goodbye back. George turned on the spot, and vanished with a pop.

"Nothing for me either," said Harry.

"Well, do either of you two want a sandwich?" Ginny asked Ron and Hermione. They shook their heads no. It seemed that everyone had lost their appetite.

Albus Potter stared wistfully out the window of the Leaky Cauldron. The moonlit streets were completely empty. He sighed, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Albus was tall for an eleven year old. He had a mop of untidy red hair, and green eyes. He was wearing pajamas with the logo of his favorite quidditch team, the Hollyhead Harpies.

He did not mind his Godfather Neville, but he did not care for the Leaky Cauldron, the pub where he lived. There was nothing to do here. James had spent the entire evening playing exploding snap with Hannah, Neville's wife, while Rose, Lily, and Hugo had played gobstones. As Albus had lost all his gobstones playing them previously, he was mind-numbingly bored the entire time. Now that it was time to go to bed, he was wide awake. The only thing he could think about had been on his mind for months now: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was less than a month before he had to catch the train on platform nine and three quarters, and Albus's stomach was in knots. James had done nothing to ease his stress, either, telling him of all the crazy things that happened at the school. Although his father had told him his schooldays had been some of the best in his life, Albus was not sure he believed him.

"Put down the goose," muttered James. Albus put a hand over his mouth to stifle a chuckle. His older brother was talking in his sleep again, a habit he'd had his entire life. While Albus looked like his Uncle Ron, James was the splitting image of their father. Like his father he wore glasses, and they were always cracked or broken. He too had messy black hair, and a kind face.

Albus tottered back over to his bed, and laid down. The room was small, barely big enough for the two beds that had been crammed in there. It smelled a bit strange. Albus knew this was because of all the strange plants Neville had growing around the place. Neville was, after all, the herbology teacher at Hogwarts. He had hoped to talk to Neville about the school today, but Neville had been too busy talking to Professor Flitwick, the ancient charms teacher at the school. The door to his room suddenly creaked open, and Albus shut his eyes tight.

"Nice try Albus," came the quiet voice of his father. He opened an eye, and saw him standing in the doorway. He motioned for Albus to follow him. Albus got out of bed, and followed his father out of the room. The walked down a flight of stairs into the pub proper. It was closed for the night, and all the chairs had been placed on top of the tables. There was an open booth though, and Harry slid into that. Albus slid across from him. "Couldn't sleep?" Harry asked.

"No," said Albus.

"Thinking about Hogwarts?"

"Yes," said Albus. Harry smiled.

"I wish I could stop you from worrying," Harry said. "I promise it's not nearly as bad as James makes it out to be. You know how he is. He can't help himself playing tricks on you."

"I guess," said Albus. "Why are you here? I thought you were spending the night with Uncle Ron and Uncle George?"

"They left early," said Harry. Albus thought of asking why, but the look on his fathers face made him reconsider. "So I came to pick you and James up. I thought for sure you'd still be awake."

"Hannah made us all go to bed," said Albus. "She's very bossy."

"Well, she's just looking out for you," said Harry.

"I want to go home," said Albus. "And sleep in my room."

"That would be fine," said Harry. "I'll let James and Lily sleep. I'll pick them up in the morning."

"Are we going to apparate?" asked Albus. He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. His mother and father tended to travel by broomstick, and as such he had never been a part of side-along apparition.

"No such luck," said Harry. "Floo powder." Albus scowled.

"Rose said that Aunt Hermione apparatus with them all the time," said Albus.

"Well that's good for Rose," said Harry patiently. "But I'm not the biggest fan of apparition. A lot can go wrong. Did Uncle Ron tell you about the time he got splinched?" Albus shook his head no. "Well it's kind of a long story. If you're good, I'll tell it to you tomorrow." This seemed to calm Albus. Harry stood up, and Albus followed him over to the fireplace. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the pile of logs. They burst into flame. He found a nearby vase, and pulled out a handful of powder from it. He tossed it in the fire, which turned emerald green. He put the vase back, and stepped into the fire. "The Potter house," Harry said. With a whirl, his father disappeared. Albus glanced back at the pub, and looked up towards the room where James slept. He smiled. He was glad he was getting to spend some alone time with his father. Albus hurried into the fire.

"The Potter house," Albus said. One second he was spinning, and the next Harry was helping him out of the flames. With a swish of his wand the soot disappeared off Albus's pajamas.

"Is mom asleep?" asked Albus.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Just like you're going to be in a few minutes." Albus opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off.

"It's nearly midnight," said Harry. "Way past your bedtime." Remembering that if he was good, Harry would tell him a story, Albus kept quiet. He followed his father out of the sitting room, into the foyer, up a long flight of stairs, and to the first door on the right. Harry opened the door, and Albus walked in. His room was rather simple. A bed, a bookcase, a closet for his clothes, and a bin full of trinkets from his Uncle's shop. His walls were covered in Hollyhead Harpies posters, and a wireless stood on an end table. Albus hopped into bed, and Harry moved to tuck him in.

"I wish I could have seen Uncle George," Albus said.

"He wished he could have seen you," said Harry. "He left you and your brother a present."

"Really?" asked Albus.

"You can play with it tomorrow," Harry said. Albus frowned, but nodded. Harry pulled the covers up to Albus's chin, and kissed his son of the forehead. "G'night," he said.

"Night Dad," said Albus. Harry walked out the room, and closed the door behind him. Now that he was in his own room, Albus felt surprisingly tired. He closed his eyes, and faded into sleep. Two doors over, Harry entered his own bedroom. Ginny was fast asleep in their four poster, snoring softly. Harry undressed quietly, and slid into bed next to her. He set his glasses on the bedside table, and closed his eyes. Unlike his son, Harry was not tired. He was worried, and disappointed. Ron had warned him that George might not join in, but he was surprised at Hermione. He wondered how many other DA members would turn him down. The Longbottom's were sure things, but the Lovegood's travelled all over the world. Seamus Finnigan was in Ireland, and Dean Thomas had six children. He hardly knew where the rest of the others were. He rolled over, and looked at his wife. He felt a surge of emotion. Why had he become an auror? Hadn't he had enough of dark wizards after the War? It seemed like every day was a struggle now. All he wanted to do was keep his family safe, but it seemed like the threats were never ending. He closed his eyes again, and tried to clear his mind. It was going to be a long night.

Look out for the next chapter, Portrait and Pensive, coming soon.

If you find any grammatical or spelling errors, please private message me. Thank you.


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